


I Know You (I swear I do)

by Emily_F6



Series: Peter Parker Prompts [16]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: The man can't remember the boy's name...he can't even remember his own.  But he knows that the boy is more important to him than anything in the world.  He just needs to figure out why.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Peter Parker Prompts [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866505
Comments: 8
Kudos: 280





	I Know You (I swear I do)

**Prompt 2: Peter and Tony have amnesia**

The man blinked at the ceiling, his head aching as he watched the dome above his head spin. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck, although he had no idea why he would have been in a situation that would have made that a possibility. Groaning, he put a hand to his forehead, and to his confused surprise, it came away clean. He touched his head again, expecting to find blood any moment, but his skin was unbroken. Pushing his hair back, he braced his hands against the floor and tried to push himself upright, groaning again when the mission was a resounding failure, his body dropping back against the floor. Sighing, he blinked a few times, ignoring the way his stomach clenched uncomfortably, then tried again, managing this time to sit upright. 

The room was large and seemingly empty except for what looked to be a pile of clothes in the corner. There were no windows, and the only light came from a handful of sconces on the walls, giving off dull, yellow light that cast long shadows. He rubbed a hand over his face, turning over and getting onto his knees, back giving a twinge of pain at the movement. Casting his mind back, the man tried to remember why he was here...why he’d woken up on the wooden floor with a killer headache. 

And then he tried to remember his own name. Where he was from. How old he was or what he did for a living. He knew that all of these questions had to have answers, but for the life of him, he couldn’t come up with any. No matter how hard he thought, no matter how he searched his mind he couldn’t remember anything. Nothing from childhood. Nothing about his family...or anything. For a moment, that made his chest hurt, and there was a strange feeling in his chest, fluttery and painful. 

And then the clothes moved.

The man’s head jerked upright, and he made himself perfectly still, watching the bundle of clothes in the corner move, legs emerging, then arms, and then he realized it wasn’t a pile of clothes at all. It was a boy. A long-limbed boy with short, curly brown hair that flopped in his face when he, just like the man, started to sit up, then fell back, a whimper escaping that made the man’s chest hurt even worse. 

Taking a steadying breath, the man got one foot, then another under him, pushing upright with one burst of effort then taking another breath as the world swayed. The boy on the floor panted, lying on his back as he gasped for air, pressing his hand to his chest. The kid’s face was bloody, nose obviously broken, and as the man approached, he realized that the kid’s eye was swollen almost shut. His mouth was open as he gasped for air, and when the man finally reached his side, his eyes flashed over to him, his whole body going still.

“Hey…you okay?” the man asked, lowering himself carefully to his knees once more. The boy took a stuttering breath, watching the hand that slowly came toward his head with wide, frightened eyes. But the man just rested it on the boy’s hair. “It’s okay...hey...I’m not going to hurt you.” There was something about this boy...he had no more memory of this child than he had of himself, but he knew that something about him was important. 

“My head...hurts…” the boy choked out, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as a tear ran down his face. The man wiped it away, putting a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Yeah...mine too, kiddo. Think we got whammied.”

The boy blinked at him, then nodded as if in agreement. 

“Do you know how you got here?” The man watched as the boy went through all the stages he himself had gone through….the searching. The realization. The fear. His eyes flashed up to the man’s, eyes wide and afraid. 

“I...no...no, I don’t...how did I get here? Who...who are you? Why can’t I remember anything?”

The man squeezed his shoulder and shook his head. “I don’t know. I just woke up a few minutes ago.” 

“I don’t know who I am,” the boy whispered, lips trembling.

“Neither do I, bud. But it’s okay. We’re going to be okay. We’ll get out of here and…” He shook his head, not sure where they’d go from there. The boy was hurt, and he had no idea who he was, or who the boy was, or how they were related. Was this...the thought hit the man so hard he almost had to sit down. Was this his son?

The boy looked familiar, and since the man couldn’t even remember his own name, that seemed significant. So...so this boy...was this boy his? Something about that thought felt right, more right than any other thought had since he’d woken up. This boy was his. His boy. His son. The more he thought it, the more right it felt. The kid was staring at him, and the man gave a tenuous smile, patting him on the arm. “Alright, kiddo. How about we try standing up, huh?”

The boy nodded, not looking too sure of himself, but still, when the man stood, the boy took his hand and let the man pull him upright, standing with the typical ease of youth...but then the man stared down at their linked hands. The boy wasn’t letting go. And this didn’t bother the man, exactly, but one look at the kid’s face and he knew that he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“I...I’m sorry...I can’t...I can’t let go,” the boy whispered, staring up at the man with one wide eye, the other swollen shut. The sight made the man wince, his free hand reaching out as if of its own accord, this thumb brushing the boy’s eye. 

“Geez, kiddo...someone took a shot at you, huh?”

“I don’t know why I can’t let go.”

Something made the man calm...something made him realize that there had to be a reason his son couldn’t let go. Something made him know, deep down, that things would be okay because he and his son were together and they could get out of this. “It’s okay. Just calm down, buddy. It’s going to be okay.” He lowered his hand to their joined ones, patting the boy’s hand. “Take a deep breath.”

“How do you know…”

“It’s going to be okay.”

“But we...we have to get out of here and I can’t…”

“Hey,” the man leaned in, meeting the boy’s one good eye. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay. Take some deep breaths. In and out...there you go.”

The kid, who had started to hyperventilate, nodded, closing his eyes then taking a deep breath. 

“There you go. Keep breathing.” The man wasn’t just speaking to him. He had to take steady, deep breaths as well to keep himself calm. This was weird...a terrible, weird thing that was happening. But they were going to be okay. Something told him that they were going to be okay. That they were going to get home and get their memories back and everything was going to be fine. It had to be. He was going to get his kid home.

Slowly, the boy managed to unstick his hand, pulling gently away and staring down at his palm. “I was stuck to you.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s...that’s weird, right?”

“It’s...it’s not normal,” the man allowed, then gave the best smile he could. “But listen, we’re going to find a way out of here. Come on...let’s, uh...let’s find a door or something, huh?”

There was a door, right between two sconces, so the two walked over, the man trying the doorknob and pulling to no avail. The boy watched, then narrowed his eyes, placing his own hand on the doorknob. “I think I can…” The boy glanced at him, then pulled. 

The doorjamb splintered, the wood breaking apart, and the door swung open, leaving the two staring in slack-jawed surprise. “The hell…” the man whispered.

“I think...I think I’m really strong,” the boy answered a question the man hadn’t asked. “And...and I can stick to things?”

“Yeah, we’ll figure out what that means later, huh? Let’s, uh...let’s get out of here first.” The man went first, stepping onto the first step, and the boy followed closely enough that the man could feel his body beat...could feel the boy that he knew had to be his behind his back. Every few steps, he reached back, placing a hand on the boy’s arm, just to make sure he was there. That he was close and he was safe. The boy had to be safe. It was his number one priority. 

When they reached the landing, they stood, silent, waiting. The boy inched forward, slipping past the man, looking around the room they found themselves in, then looked back at the man. “I don’t hear anything,” he whispered with a shrug. The man nodded, fighting the urge to touch his face...to run his finger over the bruising around his eye that seemed, somehow to be getting darker by the moment. 

“Alright. We’re looking for a door...or a window,” the man murmured, making sure to keep his voice down. Either would do. They’d climb out a window if they had to and...wander around New York?

The man jerked his head up, turning to look at the boy who stared at him, just as startled. “New York?” they hissed together, faces so close they nearly touched. “Are we...do we live in New York?” the boy asked, and the man shrugged.

“I...maybe? Or maybe we were in New York?” 

Why didn’t they have any memories? Why had they regained that piece of information seemingly at the same time? 

The man could feel the boy’s eyes on him, and so he tried to stay composed. Calm. Like this was an everyday occurance. Like they did stuff like this all the time. Hey, maybe they did! Maybe this was normal. But even as they moved from room to room, searching this maze of a place for a window or a door to the outside, he thought he could feel other eyes on him. Were they being watched? 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the man finally hissed, resisting the urge to slam his hands into the wall. They’d passed what felt like twenty doors, all leading to other rooms which led to other rooms which led to even more rooms, all bare except for the occasional bed or table. There was no food. No way out. No bathrooms. Where the hell were they?

He turned to the boy, about to see how he was holding up, but found the spot beside him empty. Stomach clenching, he turned in circles, eyes wandering the room as he searched for the boy. “Kid?” he hissed, taking a stumbling step forward. “Kid? Where’d you go?” 

“Look!” The word, called out in a whisper, had him spinning in place to find the boy, head popping out of a wall, eyes wide. “I found a secret door.”

“Gave me a heart attack is what you did,” the man grumbled a little, but he couldn’t help the smile at the boy’s excitement, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “Good job, kid.”

This time, the boy led the way, the two of them hurrying down stairs that creaked with every step, but, the man thought, it wasn’t like they were swimming in options. At the bottom of the staircase was another door, and the boy placed his hand on the knob, closing his eyes and pressing his ear to it. The man bit down on his lip, waiting. All he could hear was his own breathing, and the breathing of the boy beside him. His heartbeat. The settling of an old house. But then the boy turned the knob, pushing slowly. This door wasn’t locked, at least, and together, they stepped onto a polished wood floor. 

And there, on the far side of the room, was a window. 

They spotted it at the same time, and the man had only taken two steps, an arm reaching out to the boy, when the boy went still, a hand gripping the man’s wrist right before he sprung forward, tackling him hard and throwing the both of them to the floor. The man groaned when his head hit the floor, but then a burst of light filled his vision, hitting the boy who had been laying on top of him and throwing him into the wall. The kid blinked a few times, staring at him with one wide, frightened brown eye while the other remained as it was, swollen most of the way shut. “Kid!” He shouted, starting to push himself to his feet, when a heavy boot landed on his chest, slamming him back down. 

“I thought you said this spell would last for days!”

“It does!” The second voice was a woman’s, and the man finally got a good look at the people who must have been their captors. The woman had blonde hair and icy blue eyes that looked at the man as though he were a bug pinned to a piece of cardstock, calculating and curious, but not particularly interested. The man, with dark hair and dark skin and a black cape wrapped around his shoulders, glared at him, heavy boot still pinning him in place. 

“Then why do they keep trying to escape?”

“I can wipe their memories. I can’t make them content with laying on the floor in a strange place. Anyone would try to escape.” the woman reasoned, wandering over to the boy who was struggling to pick himself up off the floor. “This one apparently doesn’t know when to stay down.” Bringing back a food, she slammed it into his ribs and the boy gasped, falling back to the floor, hands flying to protect his side. “Four times we’ve been through this.” she pulled a foot back and kicked again. “Four times, I’ve had to deal with you.”

“Hey! Leave him alone!” the man shouted, trying to shove the boot off his chest, and that’s when the boy’s head turned toward him, eyes following the boot to the leg to the man that held him down, and the boy’s one good eye narrowed. The next time her foot came back, he grabbed it, pulling hard and sending her crashing to her knees. And then the kid was on his feet, his movements a blur as he hit her in the temple hard enough to send her crashing to the floor. The man with the boots removed his foot and made a gesture, hands moving in complicated patterns until a glowing yellow blade appeared in his hands. 

He reared back and threw it at the boy who moved from wall to wall, jumping easily out of the way. The man struggled to stand, desperate to help and not knowing how as another blade appeared, then another as their captor stalked forward, throwing blade after blade at the boy. “You ridiculous insect,” their captor growled under his breath as the man forced himself to his knees, then his feet, eyes searching the room for something...anything to use against him!

The boy was fast. He could apparently sense when those blades were coming for him. But he couldn’t hold out forever. He jumped just as the man conjured a larger blade...one long enough to be considered a spear, getting just close enough to try and land a blow, then the room was filled with a blood-curdling scream as the spear plunged through the meat of his side, coming out of his back like a shish kabob. 

The man froze, all other thoughts aborted as he watched the boy scream, hands coming down uselessly to hover over the spear running him through. “No,” the man whispered, shaking his head and stumbling forward. Not his kid...not his boy. No...not when he couldn’t even remember his fucking name!

The crash startled them all, and before the man could even make sense of it, something red was wrapped around their captor’s head, yanking him to the floor and slamming his head into the wood. Stunned, but not too stunned to move, the man raced past them to the boy’s side, dropping to his knees just as the boy did. “Hey...hey, you’re okay,” he whispered, cupping his boy’s face with one hand and steadying him with the other. “You’re okay. We’re going to get out of here. It’s okay. Look at me, buddy. You’re okay. You’re fine.” 

The boy’s lip quivered, tear tracks running through the bruises on his face, and the man felt a tug of memory...their captor’s fist slamming into the boy’s face and sending him crashing to the ground. His own voice screaming for the man to stop. But he blinked and it was gone, leaving him with just the boy. Just the boy who had to be his. Who he could never love this much if he wasn’t his, surely. If it was just some strange kid. 

The glowing circle appeared behind the man, and he only got a glimpse of it in the boy’s wide eye before turning to find a man stepping through it, the circle fizzling out behind him. This man was tall, with dark hair that had a streak in it, and a goatee to match. Striding toward the man still being smothered by a piece of apparently sentient red fabric, he pulled something that looked like glowing handcuffs out of his pocket and snapped them over the man’s wrists. As soon he did, the glowing spear fizzed away, just like the glowing circle had, and the boy made a noise under his breath before slumping forward, a growing red stair coloring the front of his t-shirt.

“No...no! Kid! Hey!” The man eased him down to the ground, laying him on his back and yanking off his own shirt, pressing the ball of fabric to the boy’s front and catching a glimpse of a scar on his own chest that he ignored.

“Tony? Are you alright?” The man with the handcuffs asked as the piece of red fabric flew through the air and eased itself around the boy’s prone form, curling up around his head like a cat. “Tony?” The man asked again, leaving their unconscious captor on the floor and hurrying to kneel beside the boy. 

“The kid...my kid…” 

“We’re going to get him back to the medbay. He’ll be okay.” Even as the other man spoke, he didn’t sound too sure, his own hands moving to the boy’s throat and pressing gently there. After a moment, he shook his head, then lifted one of the boy’s eyelids, showing only the white of his eye. “Okay...let’s get him back to the tower.”

Not sure if he could actually trust this man and not caring either way, as long as he helped his boy, the man nodded, pushing himself upright and watching as the other man moved his hands, somehow making the boy float in midair. Another glowing circle appeared, and with a deft flick of his hands, the boy was floating through it.

The piece of red fabric moved from where it had been resting on the floor to settle on the man with the handcuff’s shoulders, going limp like any other cloak. “Let’s get you back to the tower. Are you hurt?” 

The man shook his head. “The kid...the boy…”

“He’ll be fine, Tony. You need to come with me. Your doctor is taking care of him.”

“My doctor?”

The man with the cloak narrowed his eyes. “Dr. Cho. I’ll assist as well…”

“They did something to us,” the man blurted. “I can’t remember...he’s my son and I can’t even remember…”

For a moment, the other man was silent. Then he reached out a hand. “Your name is Tony Stark. The boy’s name is Peter. You were abducted by a sorcerer that we have been trying to capture for months now. They must have used the…” He trailed off, getting a closer look at the man who realized his name was Tony. Just like the sudden memory of his location, that knowledge clicked into his brain, just like his boy’s name. Peter. He was Tony and that was Peter. He loved Peter. Peter was his in some way. “Okay. I think I can reverse it...or it should wear off. Either way, we need to get you out of here.”

Tony had only just gotten his body through the portal when a woman threw herself into his arms, pressing her head to his shoulder and taking a long, shuddering breath. “Oh god, Tony! I thought…” She trailed off, pulling away, and he felt his heart swell with love, just like it had when he’d first seen the boy. Peter. Swallowing hard, he tried for a smile as he faced the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

“Hi.”

She gave an incredulous shake of the head and then pulled him close again. “Hi.”

“Their memories were wiped. It’s a fairly simple spell. I can reverse it.” The man who had yet to introduce himself called out as he made a gesture and the portal collapsed. “Tony? Come and take a seat and I can..”

“No...Peter! You have to check on…”

“Doctor Cho is with him,” the man assured him. “He’s going to be fine.” The man seemed so sure, and the woman put a hand on his shoulder, leading him to the sofa in the corner. They were in what looked to be a medical waiting room, and Tony tried to remember it...tried to think of why they would be in their own private waiting room. Was it a hospital? His hospital?

The man wearing the cloak stared at Tony, and he found himself almost dozing off, staring at the man who moved his hands, muttering something Tony couldn’t quite understand.

And then he knew. 

The knowledge, the sum of his life, hit him so hard that, had he been standing, he was sure his knees would have buckled. As it was, his legs lost all sensation and his breath was caught in his throat, Pepper’s hand on his shoulder the only thing holding him up. 

“Tony? Tony, can you hear me?” Stephen Strange demanded, sounded worried, as though he might have accidentally killed him. 

Tony nodded, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling it all hit him. They’d been chasing that wizard, searching the city for the man who had been abducting people...bodies had been found by the river. Stephen had told them that they were the bodies of other wizards. So Tony had joined Peter on his patrols, the two of them keeping an eye out...and then there had been a battle. A flash of light.

And then that attic. 

Four times. Four times, Tony had woken and found Peter in the corner, curled in a ball where he’d been thrown haphazardly. Four times he had realized that this was his boy, his child, and that he had to protect him, even if he didn’t remember his own name. Four times Peter had found the secret door and four times they had lost the battle and Peter had been hurt worse and worse...

Until Stephen had come along. 

“Peter.” He whispered the boy’s name. It didn’t matter that Stephen had already told him the boy’s name. Now he knew. Peter. Peter who he’d met in the boy’s apartment and who had come with him to Germany to try and apprehend Steve. Peter, who, in the two years since, had become less of a mentee and more of a son. 

His instincts had been right each of those four times. Peter was his kid.

After being ushered by Pepper back into their apartment to take the fastest shower of his life and change clothes, he hurried back down to the medbay where he found Stephen still waiting. It wasn’t long before Helen came out of the medbay with a tired smile and a white coat speckled with blood. “Tony...it’s good to see you,” she murmured, eyes full of genuine relief. “He’s okay. He lost a lot of blood, but we had enough on hand. He’s resting.”

“Can you undo the spell? Make him remember again?” He asked Stephen, turning with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He needed Peter to remember. Needed him to know who he was and who Tony was.

“Of course.” Both men turned to Helen who gave a sharp nod. 

“He should be awake soon.”

Tony found himself at Peter’s side less than ten minutes later, along with Stephen and the cloak that, true to form, left Stephen’s shoulders and draped itself over Peter’s shoulders. The collar rubbed gently against Peter’s face, like a dog licking his cheek. Tony remembered the first time they’d met the cloak had met him...he remembered the thing wrapping itself around Peter and snuggling up with him like an overexcited puppy. Strange had seemed resigned but less irritated than amused...and ever since, that cloak had loved Peter. And Peter had loved the cloak.

Peter was only asleep for about an hour before he started to stir, and Tony remembered what it had felt like to watch the boy wake those four times...how he hadn’t recognized him. Hadn’t remembered anything about him. But he’d known, the moment he’d laid eyes on him, every single time, that he was important. The boy looked up at him, eyes fluttering like they had every time, that same lack of recognition and fear as before, but this time, it went away after a moment. 

“What...what happened?” Peter asked, looking from Tony to the other people in the room...the ones who, to him, were strangers. 

“You’re okay. How do you feel, kiddo?”

“Um...I’m okay. Did we...did we get out?” He asked, his voice a whisper as he glanced at Stephen once more.

“Yeah, bud. We got out. This is Stephen. He’s going to help you remember, okay?”

“Okay...um…” Peter nodded, eyes darting over to Stephen once more. Sensing that the boy wanted to ask something, Tony leaned in as Stephen excused himself to get something from the other room. Tony was sure the man didn’t need anything, but Stephen had had a soft spot for Peter from the beginning, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“What’s up? Do you need something?” Tony asked, leaning in.

“I just...do you...do you know? Who you...who you are and who I…”

“Yeah, buddy. I do.” 

Peter swallowed hard, glancing down at his lap, then back at Tony. “Are you...are you my…” He flushed, crossing his arms over his chest, and Tony reached out, putting a hand on his hair, ruffling it gently.

“You're my kid, you know that right?”

“I...I kind of...I hoped but…”

Tony smiled, moving the hand to the boy’s cheek. “You’re my kid. Now why don’t you let Stephen do his weird wizard thing and we’ll all have our memories again. Okay?”

“Okay.” The smile on Peter’s face was heartbreakingly relieved, and Tony leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the side of his hair before stepping away to make room for Stephen, who had taken his time reentering the room. When he did, he took a seat beside Peter, urging the boy to relax, and Tony watched. He watched Peter as the wizard moved his hands and murmured the magic words, whatever those were, and he watched the knowledge return to Peter’s eyes.

Tony was the first one Peter looked for as he slumped back against the pillow, the energy seeming to drain from him. As if sensing Tony’s movements, Stephen stood, moving easily out of the way as he sat down hard in the chair at Peter’s side, reaching out to grab the boy’s hand. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay. I know...it hits you hard at first.”

“Oh...oh god, Mr. Stark…”

“It’s fine. Buddy, it’s okay. We’re fine.”

“I kept...I thought you were my...I’m so sorry…”

“Hey,” Tony murmured, moving from the chair to the side of Peter’s bed. “Look at me.”

Peter did, sniffing a little and running a hand through his hair. Already, the bruises on his face looked better. His eye, too, was healing. 

“You are. I am. Not by blood, but still. I...I love you, kid. Even when I didn’t know my own name, I knew that. So it must be true, huh?” 

Slowly, that same hopeful smile grew on Peter’s face, and he gave a quick nod. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.” Tony leaned in, wrapping his arm around the boy.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“I love you too.” 

**Thank you for reading!**


End file.
